Yellow and Poetry
by candidshot
Summary: When Klaus suddenly shows up in town with a single request and a yellow story, Caroline can't help but think that being with him is something like poetry.


Sudden like a calm storm, Klaus shows up in town.

Caroline looks at him not too surprised and asks, "why are you here?", the corners of her lips twitching to form a suppressed smile.

In secret, she's ridiculously happy.

Walking closer to her, Klaus' expression remains limpid in awe while observing her impeccably well put together physique, "because you're here, Sweetheart", he says with a satisfied grin.

Sweetheart – Oh how she has missed this. Klaus calling her name like a delicate butterfly in the wind is like therapy – the sort of healing that makes her heart reel and flips about in protest of her levelheadedness and stubbornness and weak denial of her very self.

She balls her palms and folds her arms across her chest, "so what do you want with me?"

He leans across, brushes his lips against her right cheek and in a prompt whisper answers, "Everything".

Caroline knows they say distance makes the heart grow fonder. But each time Klaus goes away and returns like the freshness of seasons, she can't help but think that he's calculating – bold and calculating and spelling her into a dream she wants to sleep long and deep and as true as can be – and for the first time she feels like –

"Oooh? The cat has got your tongue?", he smirks, fixing a loose hair from Caroline's ponytail, then stopping short with his hand still lingering against her skin. His eyes, emerald and bold with love burn into her an irresistible desire packed with a promise to one day make her his, "If you don't hurry and fight back then I might actually win this round", he leers with menace, his lips wet and tempting like Eden's fruit.

Just then, the sudden ringing of his mobile phone allows her to breathe when he answers. She couldn't hear the full conversation and truth be told she's in no state to eavesdrop, but from his side of the conversation she could tell who's on the line.

"I'll get there eventually, Elijah", he replies the way one acts impatient when interrupted at the best part of an anticipated thing, "let's not forget that I'm the one who suggested this plan, so of course I wouldn't engage in matters that are unnecessary", and he would swiftly turn around at short intervals as if to make sure Caroline is still there.

Caroline hisses. She had suspected it, found it too surreal to believe that he would get on the road and travel all this way just to see her – and so it pisses her off that she's his side trip. She pins her lips together, swallows back bitter curses and is prepping to make a dash, but at the very second she breathes, Klaus is at the door backing her in.

"Sorry Elijah, but something very necessary has come about", and he clicks and ends the call ignoring the angry mutterings Caroline could still hear from the vexed brother.

Klaus is staring at her and she staring back at him – staring at his cheekbones, chiseled and heightened in beauty with the way he leans his head at angle, and the way his gentle green eyes look as though trying to read her, "why must you run away from me?"

A bit of guilt pangs her and she exhales trying to compose her emotion and steady her voice, "not running", she says, "You seem busy".

"You're right. I am busy", he's swift to agree, taking her by the hand and pulling her close to him, "I'm busy trying to woo you".

She bats her eyes, "failed flattery".

But instead of following up with the usual to and fro banter, Klaus goes on a tangent with yet another story, "on my way here, I saw something that reminded me of you".

Caroline quirks her eyebrows, "could it be another blonde? Because that would make me the most special chick in the world", she remarks with sarcasm.

He spins her around and backs her against the door, his index finger rubbing the nape of her neck, "they were the prettiest of yellow".

"They? Blondes?"

He gives her a reprimanding look, "Sweetheart, stop involving other people in our story", and twirling her hair betwixt his fingers he says, "Flowers. I'm talking about yellow flowers. While driving a few towns earlier to where Elijah was just pestering me about, is a field of the purest, yellowest flowers. Before I knew it, I was out the car and walking amongst them", he inhales as if reliving the moment, then exhales with, "they smelled of nostalgia, of a good memory I had with you. And when the petals whistled in the wind, I wanted to hear that silver bell tone in your voice and touch you the way those petals brushed against my fingers and Caroline, all at once I wondered what they might taste like, and so I've come - I want to be kissed by you."

Being with Klaus is like poetry.

A sonnet Caroline always feels whenever in his company.

"Caroline, would you be so kind to grant me a kiss?"

And her gasp is anything but subtle.

He stirs her up.

He stirs her up the way how without looking, she can feel his smile resting on her face. And how his warmth isn't just heat, but a gentle needy and giving embrace. And his laughter, deep and manly and yet tickles her ears. His voice whispers too, ringing like a love verse written by Shakespeare.

This is bad.

But, she knows it's already too late.

Because, stubborn as she likes to think, oblivious as she wickedly plays to be – she never misses those chance glances and touches, knowing full well those are Klaus' many ways of saying – 'Take my heart, and give me yours'.

Like poetry –

Feeling stupid to have fallen in love with him.

And yet, feeling glad to be loved by him.

There are many ways to interpret Klaus, yet all of him is genuine.

She won't admit it with words, but her heart and soul won't ever, can never refuse him. This man with his arms crisscrossed around her – she loves Klaus like crazy.

His phone rings again.

This time it's Rebekah.

When he's done he turns around, sighs and says, "count your blessings that you don't have siblings", and when she half smiles at his strange remark he adds, "if I were human, I would have gone bald by now".

She finds herself grinning.

Klaus is a man with unexpected wittiness at times. He's also the man who promised her a lifetime in which she would never be in want of anything. He's the man she can trust to love her inside out – a possessive love that's almost as obsessive yet with its freedom. He's the man who is capable of so many ill deeds, and yet is capable of being an innocent fresh rose – he personifies so many things.

"Give me something for the journey", he says.

"You mean help with your taxi fare? Can't you just abracadabra or something?"

He frowns in a sort of playfulness then says, "its scares me to think exactly what you perceive me to be".

She giggles and asks, "then what do you want?"

"I told you. I came for a kiss".

"You came all the way here for just a kiss?"

He smirks at her, "what? Would you prefer I ask for something more?"

"Don't push your luck".

Daring and satisfied he tells her, "then go on. Make it slow and deep".

Caroline gives him a scolding look, before then smacking her lips together and wetting them with her tongue, "Beggars have no choice. You must learn to take what you get".

"And you mustn't tease me" he says, leaning in with utmost anticipation. His eyes sparkle looking at her pretty face closing in on him, then his lips part and dance in kisses with hers.

The communion spells a moment of happiness. A moment wishing time would stay still. A moment in which she plays tribute to that time Klaus talked her into living – to stay alive - for him – perhaps for this very moment.

Then, if it's so then maybe this is the place she's meant to be – any place where Klaus is.

And so she disregards how fate has been cantankerous and how time seems to have declared war upon them, and in this very moment she sheaths her weapon and allows him to kiss her – roll his tongue over hers, taste the orange flavour from his spit, and allows him to redefine the line of her lips with his tongue and to embrace her, pressing into her bosom – she allows him to kiss her like the reading of sweet poetry.

"Caroline", he pulls away calling her, his breath hot and tingles on her skin.

"Yes?".

"Caroline".

She hesitates before again answering, "Yes?".

"It's a shame, really".

"What is?"

"You'll never grow old".

She giggles in disbelief at the random and out of context remark before saying, "are you drunk?"

He laughs, near silently, "beyond a doubt you would be just as lovely… perhaps even lovelier in your golden years".

She rolls her eyes, "that's poor flattery", and then, "I just said it, didn't I? Don't be greedy. Take what you're given".

He smiles – a mix of gratefulness and greed, "I am taking. But I want more. I want to swallow you whole".

She laughs again, "I always knew you were strange but wow – turning such a touchy-feely moment into something so gross".

He smiles with ease, the innocence of a cub. She kisses him this time, willfully and long lingering like a promise, because she knows that one day, he'll devour her will to let him go.

"Oh, that's an unexpected bonus", he says flaunting his dimpled cheeks with smugness, "why must you torture me so?"

She laughs at him, "isn't that what you came for?"

He groans in response - tamed but unsated, pressing his lips against her right cheek, and when she giggles at the ticklish feel of his stubble, her laughter fills him with sweet happiness.

And it's almost dizzying.

Amazingly so.

He smiles, nods and swallows her lip by lip and then by tongue - slowly - as if biding his time. He then releases her, tilts her chin up and looks her in the eye, "Today…," he tells her, "I'll take what I can get".


End file.
